


Caffeine Highs and Lows

by ifyousaysodearie



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom, unilock - Fandom
Genre: Café, Gen, M/M, cafe fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifyousaysodearie/pseuds/ifyousaysodearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has to take a summer job at a cafe while staying in London with Mycroft for the break. John is a medical student who just wanted a cup of coffee and ended up with a new favorite barista.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This happened because of a picture on tumblr of a sign outside of a cafe and someone put a prompt up with the picture to write a fic. So I did it, I hope you like it. 
> 
> What I wrote on the board in the story is what was on the board in the picture that prompted this fic. Here is a link to the picture- https://40.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbevvfUw0O1qduyeio1_500.jpg  
> Please comment I appreciate the feedback. :)

The café smelled overwhelmingly of roasting coffee and sweets and pastries being baked. Sherlock sighed as he listened to some prat rattle off a ridiculously complex drink, no one could just order a black coffee could they? No. Instead he was making another pretentious drink that was filled with nearly a day’s worth of calories; one could hardly call it a drink really.

He had to take a job at Java Hut this summer if he wanted to be able to visit Mycroft in London. His brother had insisted that he learned how to earn his own money, said it would do him some good. Sherlock was convinced he was paying him back for telling mummy about where the last slice of cake went when she was Mycroft had been lying so well about his diet during his last visit home. Still it was nice to have his own spending money, he secretly bought cigarettes with them and Mycroft secretly pretended not to smell it on him when he came home to the flat each night.

Right now Sherlock was stuck in the middle of a shift that seemed endless and for whatever reason today a lot of the boys from the local university kept leaving their numbers with him. Sherlock had of course tossed them all away after giving a faux polite and confused smile and they went on their way. At least his tips were good today, that was something. His co-workers seemed to be pleased with themselves for some reason whenever someone had hit on Sherlock during the day and he was doing his best to ignore their idiotic grins and giggles. The time was dragging on but as his eyes darted to the clock he was thrilled to see that he only had two minutes until his break. Doing little to stifle an exasperated groan when a blonde young man that looked a few years older than himself came up to the counter and offered a seemingly genuine smile.

“Welcome to the Java Hut.” He said a bit monotone after having to repeat the same greeting for the five-hundredth time today.

Bracing himself for yet another ridiculously complicated order he asked. “How may I help you today?” Still slightly monotone as he saw the customer looking the menu over as if he were unsure what he wanted.

John had been up early all day, he was taking summer courses at Saint Bart’s trying to cram in all the studying he could before he was to deploy at the end of the year. He saw the coffee shop and came in for a quick caffeine fix. Outside of the café he had noticed a sandwich board with a little chalk message written on it. ‘Today your Barista is: 1. Hella fucking gay 2. Desperately single. For your drink today I suggest: you give me your number’. Beside the message was a tall stick figure with a mop of curly hair doodled atop it. He gave the sign a peculiar look and then decided it was best to ignore it, head inside of the café. He went to the counter and looked up to the menu, his eyes reading carefully. Most of the terms were ones that made no sense to him, what in the hell was a ‘macchiato’?

When the svelte, tall worker with inky-curly hair behind the counter asked him how he could help him John kept searching the menu for a moment before meeting the younger man’s eyes. Thinking to himself that this must be the person who was drawn onto the board out front, which was a bit of an awkward thought. “Um… right, this might sound ridiculous but do you guys have just coffee, like black coffee?”

Sherlock couldn’t help but grin in disbelief, someone in London still had sense enough to enjoy a simple coffee, it was nothing short of a miracle. “Yes, of course we have black coffee.” He nodded.

“Good, alright I’ll take…what the hell is a venti? Is that large?” John asked as he tried to figure out how to order.

Sherlock could see that the man across from him was uncomfortable in the café, out of place, no ounce of pretentiousness in him. “Yes, venti is large.” He nodded again, his grin grew.

“Okay a black coffee, venti then. No chance you guys have just plain glazed donuts?” John asked seeing that the barista seemed to warm up a little bit for some unknown reason.

“We do, they are a day old and stale. I wouldn’t recommend them.” Sherlock shrugged.

John was about to ask him what he would recommend when he remembered the board outside and just gave him a short nod. “Right, just the coffee then,”

Sherlock turned quickly to grab a Styrofoam cup, filling it with hot deeply roasted Brazilian coffee, that was as plain as it came in the café. As he was pouring John noticed that the barista didn’t seem to be flamboyant or desperate for male attention as the board suggested, if anything he seemed to want to get the order done as quickly as he could and not talk at all. John also noticed that there was another young man working and a young woman as well watching intently and he put the pieces together. They must have written the board about this worker, the stick figure had his curls and he was working the front of the store while they seemed to be doing a whole lot of nothing.

Sherlock placed the coffee down on the counter. “That will be two pounds, fifty pence…please.” He had managed to remember to be polite which was surprising.

John nodded meeting his eyes and thinking that the worker was cute, he had nice eyes, he wouldn’t be desperate for attention if he wanted it. The board was most definitely some sort of cruel joke and he was not one to let things like that stand by. He started to fish his wallet out of his trouser pocket and cleared his throat hesitantly. “So the specials board out front…could you tell me more about that?” he asked not wanting to outright ask if it was a joke, being cautious about it because he was not one to judge if it were serious and he had been mistaken.

“I’m not sure what the special is today, if I knew what it was I have deleted it.” Sherlock shrugged knowing that he was supposed to care more about these things while he worked here but he couldn’t be bothered.

“Right, um…well. You wouldn’t want my number would you?” he asked, fishing again cautiously before he said anything outright, placing his money on the counter.

Sherlock cocked one eyebrow looking John over, a bit flustered by the question for some reason. “No, I’m flattered but I’m not in the habit of collecting stranger’s phone numbers.” This was true despite the fact that several people had felt the need to give him their number today, something he still had not made sense of.

John grimaced, there was no mistaking it, and the board was some sort of bullying prank. “I only asked because well, the board outside, the special board. Well it um…it implied that you were looking for stranger’s phone numbers.” As he said this he put a five pound note into the tip jar, feeling tremendously guilty about something that he had nothing to do with, feeling badly for the young man behind the counter.

Sherlock put the money in the register and again offered the customer a confused look. “That’s absurd.” He said, taking his apron off, it was his break now anyhow. He headed out to the store front and John followed him out. The look of horror on Sherlock’s face was vivid when he saw the stick figure, doing his best to smooth his expression back out as he took one broad hand and began to smear the board to erase the doodle and the writing.

John looked back into the café and the two workers still at the counter were in fits of giggles and he sent them a glare before turning to Sherlock. Sherlock kicked the board over so it fell on its side before pulling out his cigarettes and lighting one, his head shaking. In all honesty he knew pranks like this one should go ignored, people were assholes but it was humiliating and it hurt even if he wouldn’t admit that much out loud.

John stood there unsure what to do but he didn’t want to leave the barista alone, taking a sip from his coffee as he kept his opinions about the cigarette to himself. “Sorry about that.” He finally said a moment later.

“Did you draw it?” Sherlock asked a bit aggressively, knowing of course that John had not.

“What? No, no. Of course not.” John answered firmly.

Sherlock met his eyes and then looked away an instant later. “Then you have nothing to be sorry about.”

John felt one corner of his mouth turning upwards into a small smirk, the younger man at least seemed to be rational even if it had been a rather unkind thing to happen to him. “Well still, I’m sorry for those idiots.”

“They are idiots.” Sherlock confirmed. “They think anyone who isn’t chronically lip-locked with another is living a meaningless life. They’ve been dating two months, broken up three times already and she’s pregnant, doesn’t know it yet…I might just tell her.”

John laughed softly and shrugged. “Would serve her right.”

Sherlock took a long drag from his cigarette and released a puff of smoke as he calmed himself. “Thanks. For telling me about it, the sign I mean.”

John shook his head to say that he did not need to be thanked. “Any decent person would have.”

“You’re wrong.” Sherlock shook his head as well taking another drag. “I’ve gotten no less than two dozen phone numbers today and I had no idea why.”

“Any one interesting at least?” John asked trying to put a bright spin on this.

Sherlock laughed this time. “No.” Leaving out a thought that followed about how he found the shorter man interesting right in this moment as he sipped his black coffee and was seemingly kind and not an idiot, so far at least.

“Too bad,” John shrugged as he loomed outside the café with the barista. His eyes flicking over his name tag. “Sherlock, interesting name. I’m John.” He extended his hand, not entirely certain why he was compelled to have a conversation with this particular stranger.

Sherlock looked to his hand and hesitated for a moment before extending his own. The man had been friendly, told him about the sign and tipped him well even though he had ordered a simple coffee. “Nice to meet you John,” he offered a fraction of a smile as he inhaled a bit more smoke. “So you’re a medical student?”

John wanted to ask him how he knew that but the café was close to Saint Bart’s and he had been carrying a backpack, not exactly a stretch that he would be a medical student. “Yes. In my second year now,” he explained drinking a grateful sip of the coffee in his hand.

Sherlock put out his cigarette and knew that his break was going to be over in a moment. “Thank you again for telling me about the sign John. I’ve got to get back to work.” He didn’t want to go back inside to work and not only because it meant that he would have to be in close proximity to the morons that were his co-workers once more. John was interesting to him, clearly bright if he was a medical student and apparently kind enough to intervene and help out a total stranger.

John nodded and gave him an understanding sort of expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to chat through your break. Just…ignore those two, the signs gone now.”

Sherlock shrugged as if to say that he did not mind talking to John even if it was his only break during the shift. “I will.” He agreed to ignore them.

“Thanks for the coffee.” John smiled as Sherlock headed inside again. He headed home, feeling a good caffeine buzz kicking in already and making a mental note of where the Java hut was. The coffee was good after all but in truth that would not be the reason why he returned to the little café tomorrow after class.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds his way back to the cafe to see what the special might be today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I haven't written in so long. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I promise not to take such a long time to update again. Comments always welcome and appreciated.

The next day John had a full day of classes, which he had woken up late for and he hadn’t had anything to eat at all since the night before. Once his abnormal psychology class was over he could no longer ignore the fervent grumbling in his stomach. The cafeteria didn’t seem appealing though and he could use a pick me up in the form of caffeine. With that in mind he decided to go back to the café from the day before, hoping that Sherlock might be working again. John had found his attitude the day before, the utter lack of interest in his surrounding and the pretentiousness of it all, oddly attractive. He strolled his way until he made it to the Java Hut and headed inside, giving a warm and genuine smile to the dark haired, svelte young man behind the register. 

Sherlock had a thankfully short shift today, his boss had called him in to ask him to cover part of a shift because Gina, his daughter had come down with the flu. Sherlock of course knew better, she was pregnant he was certain of it but it was not his place to tell. He had tried to refuse the extra work hours but Mycroft had ears like a bat, hearing the whole conversation. He made Sherlock take the shift saying it would be good for him to help out and get in good with his boss and that the extra money wouldn’t hurt either.  It was about an hour before his shift would be over when the medical student from the day before came into the café.  “Large black coffee?” he asked skipping all niceties.

John gave him a look that suggested he had been thrown off by the other man remembering his order, even if it was very simple. “Yeah, um…I’ll take the coffee and a turkey club.” He said after looking up to the board. Sherlock nodded and went to work, setting up the coffee first and giving it to John to drink as he made the sandwich.

John felt a little uneasy, wanting to make conversation but he was nervous and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He stood there unnaturally silent, pretending to read the board above with all the menu items on it. Sherlock could not help but notice this awkwardness and he broke the silent tension between them. “Are you going to offer me your number again?” He had been able to tell that John was interested in him, to what degree he was uncertain. “I told you yesterday that I’m not desperate for a boyfriend, despite what my co-workers think.”

“What…god, no.” John gave a disbelieving sort of laugh. “I mean, I um…didn’t come here to give you my number.”

“Then why did you come back?” Sherlock asked pointedly.

“Why does anyone come here?” John retorted. “I wanted coffee, something to eat too.”

“They don’t have coffee in the cafeteria at Saint Bart’s then?” Sherlock smirked.

John hesitated before answering. “They do, it’s more like warmed over piss to be honest.”

Sherlock laughed lightly as he finished making the sandwich and gave John an appraising sort of look. “You could have gone for coffee anywhere.”

“I could have. I suppose you have a point there.” John shrugged.

“I’ve tasted the coffee here, it’s not special enough to warrant a second trip out of your way.” That much was obvious even without his keen observation skills.

“You’re right. Maybe I came back to see if the specials were better than yesterday.” John decided to drop the defensiveness that he was feeling and to admit that he had wandered here for the now very obvious reason of seeing Sherlock.

“I thought you weren’t here to give me your number.” Sherlock quirked one eyebrow as he handed John his sandwich, purposely not giving him the total.

“I wasn’t …I mean, I’m not.” John looked down to the counter and then started to rifle through his pockets for his wallet.

“Don’t.” Sherlock stopped him. “You lucked out, the special today is a free lunch for soon to be doctors.” Was he flirting? Oh god, he realized that he was. Still it was fun and it felt good especially when John had smiled at him.

“You don’t have to do that.” John shook his head still grinning. He was suddenly very glad that he decided to meander back to the Java Hut.

“I know but this way you might come back a third time to not give me your number.” Sherlock found in that moment that he really was hoping to make the medical student a regular customer so he had something to look forward to on his shifts.

“I might, thanks for lunch.” John nodded and took the sandwich and coffee in hand as well as a napkin that Sherlock had put under the sandwich. He still slipped two pounds into the tip jar before he left, turning on his heel and leaving the café with a decent lunch, a hot coffee and a broad smile across his lips.

He walked back to Saint Bart’s, he still had studying to do and the library was a terrific haven to get his work done. It was only once he settled and sitting down to eat that he noticed something scribbled on the napkin. He looked at it and saw that it was a note that said _‘Do you want my number?’_ and under it was a mobile number that John could only assume belonged to the handsome barista who had kindly given him a rather delicious turkey sandwich. He tucked the napkin into his pocket unused and smiled at the thought of calling Sherlock who so clearly was not at all desperate for a boyfriend.


	3. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Sherlock wants a date.

            Maybe he shouldn’t do this. John’s hands felt slightly clammy as he had an internal debate on whether or not he should actually use the number the barista had given him. They really didn’t know each other outside of his coffee order and John infringing on his cigarette break. Still, Sherlock was handsome and nice enough and most people were strangers when they asked someone out on a date, weren’t they? Not that the free lunch was a date but John had not forgotten the gesture that had accompanied him acquiring Sherlock’s number.

            He sighed, “What the hell.” He shook his head and pushed the send button for a text that simply read. ‘Hey, it’s Black Coffee, how are you?-JW’.

           What was the harm anyhow? If they didn’t hit it off and it became awkward, John could simply find one of the other coffee shops to get his fix. He felt the corner of his lip twitch and curve into a worried half-frown as he waited. Maybe he should have called, but that felt too formal in a way. Most people just sent a text message, it was in theory faster and easier. In the moment though, waiting for a reply, it felt like a small fraction of infinity had been sat on John’s lap.

            He was grateful when the drawn out anxiety came to a small close as his phone chimed and alerted him to the fact that he had been sent a message in reply. He opened it and again shook his head as again as he laughed at his own anxiety. ‘I am well. I was wondering if I had misjudged our exchange earlier. I’m glad you messaged me. How was the sandwich?-SH’

            Sherlock had been off work for a few hours and he had little to nothing to do. An hour after he got home he began to get frustrated at his own boredom and with the fact that his phone refused to twiddle or tweet in response to a call or message that he was hoping to get. He started to think that he misjudged the doctor in training and if his twice over offer to give his number over was only a joke, whether or not Sherlock actually had wanted it.  He was glad to see that he had assessed John correctly, or as how he was referring to himself as ‘Black Coffee’.  ‘It was great, thanks again. So, why did you give me your number? I mean, I’m glad you did but why?-JW’

            Sherlock read the reply and furrowed his brow. ‘You seem less idiotic than most people and I wanted to talk to you. Why do you usually give out your number?-SH’

            John winced when he read the reply, maybe he had offended the generous barista and he typed quickly, his fingers tapping the screen of his phone. ‘I don’t usually give out my number honestly. I mean if I do it’s usually because I am looking for a date.- JW’

            He couldn’t take it back now that it was sent, John felt his cheeks turn beat red as he wondered what the man at the other end reading his words was thinking.

            Sherlock read the message and his cupid bow lips turned into a soft grin. ‘I suppose that would be a good a reason as any to give out your number.-SH’

            John read that and he couldn’t be wrong, Sherlock was flirting and playing coy. Two could play at that game.  ‘But I didn’t give out my number, you gave me yours. Maybe you were looking for a date?-JW’

            Sherlock knew that the other man was doubtlessly playing along and flirting as well even if text messages made social cues harder to decipher. ‘Maybe I was.-SH’

            ‘If I asked you out on a date would you say yes?-JW’ John laughed at himself, remembering sending a crush a note in grade school that asked her as similar question. He had been rejected that time if he remembered correctly.

            ‘Maybe.-SH’ Sherlock fought the impulse to say yes right away, part of him guarded and worried that this was entirely hypothetical.

            ‘Sherlock, would you go out on a date with me?-JW’ John decided to take the leap and ask despite the lack of a resounding yes.

            A long pause, then fingers rapidly striking keys all too eagerly as Sherlock replied. ‘Yes.-SH’.

            They arranged to meet the next day, it worked out for them both. John had morning classes and the afternoon free and Sherlock had the day off, for which he was grateful.

            Mycroft had not been ignorant to the lack of frustrated immature groans coming from his brother. He came down from his office shortly before dinner and saw Sherlock was enthralled with his phone at the moment, quirking his eye brow and observing him. The smile the younger wore was subtle but most definitely there. It seemed that his brother was talking to someone, which was peculiar considering his rather prideful claim of not liking any of his peers. “Did you manage to make a friend in this city then?” Mycroft asked when Sherlock had finally taken notice to him.

         Sherlock did not give him a look of childish distain as he usually did when Mycroft asked anything even remotely personal. Instead this time he gave a small shrug and looked back to his phone. “Maybe.”


End file.
